one of those other worlds
by colourmayfade
Summary: A collection of AU ficlets prompted on tumblr; anything goes from Missing Year to superheroes and pirates.
1. Superhero pt 1

A series of short aus written for a meme on tumblr, eventually this will contain:

\- superhero pt 1 &amp; 2  
\- fortune teller  
\- pirates pt. 1 &amp; 2 _(prompt: "you can't steal something that's been given to you")  
_\- awkward teenage 7 minutes in heaven  
\- Person A's car breaks down on the side of the road and person B drives the tow truck that's coming for A  
\- minotaur _(written for oqweek)  
_\- missing year (_cw: character death)  
_\- Game of Thrones au

This one is superhero au, initially prompted by oqpromptsandfanfics on tumblr.

* * *

**Superhero AU**

He's seen her before, of course he has. Is there anyone who hasn't these days?

She's constantly on the newspapers or gracing the cover of one magazine or another. A frequent presence on television, always fighting side by side with Captain America and Iron Man, defending their city from the neverending string of madmen intent on wreaking havoc with it.

But seeing her from behind a screen is nothing compared to seeing her now, flesh and blood in front of him. Now she is larger than life, the fire that shoots from her hands is almost too bright and she seems to go from one place to the other as if in a poof of magic. He's aware that it's technology; the technology built into the beautiful black suit she wears is what allows her to do all of this and yet… he can't help but gape.

There's a feeling that he gets as she puts herself directly in harm's way, as though something in his chest is threatening to tighten and chase all the breath out.

It happens quick as a wink. One of those moments capable of shaping a lifetime within the span of 10 seconds.

Roland steps out from under his arms, yelling "doggie!" and chasing a lost puppy that's running right through the line of the destruction.

Robin's heart stops. The ground seems to crack beneath him as he sees with sudden clarity what is going to happen. In the spin of a second, the tentacled beast to Roland's right will spread its arms and grab his boy. The most precious thing in Robin's world will be at the mercy of a villain who's made clear she's a stranger to such a thing - will use his son to taunt and distract the superheroes for only a minute or two before throwing Roland aside as Robin has seen her do to any number of poor, unfortunate civilians caught in her deadly grip.

It's already in course, it's happening now and Robin barely registers that he's shouting his son's name in desperation when she appears.

Come from out of nowhere, as if by miracle; swift as any conjured thing. She reaches for Roland, holds him in her arms with a protective grip, and then there's a flash of light and the beastly metal tentacles are curling in.

Roland is crying as she places him in Robin's arms and she soothes him, gently runs a hand to move the curls away from the boy's eyes. Robin thinks, oddly, that he catches something about sushi in what she whispers in his son's ear, is fairly sure that there can only be one reason for her to use the word _fishy:_ to pull a giggle from his son.

"Thank you," Robin says, with no small amount of gratefulness, once he's done doing an eye check on his boy for bruises.

She meets his gaze with a beam on still on her face.

A weepy bark coming from the left has Roland immediately perking up. "Doggie!"

An improbable thing happens next — she turns and walks right toward the dog, ignoring the trail of destruction that surrounds them, the fight that's still going a few steps behind her, crouches down to pick the puppy up and bring it back to his son.

"Roland?" she asks, eyes flicking to Robin to make sure she has the name right. Both he and his son nod dutifully at her. "Is this why you ran toward that… monster? To get the dog?"

Roland nods his yes, reaching out a hand to pet the puppy still in her arms.

"Well, that was very brave of you. But next time," she says with a hand beneath Roland's chin, "remember that you shouldn't let go of your daddy's hand."

"I can take the monsters," she tells him, serious but kind, "but you have to help me by staying safe."

"Okay," Roland agrees, every bit as serious as she's spoken to him.

Robin watches, enthralled, as she passes the small dog from her arms to his boy's. Her raven hair is loose and wild, it whips behind her with the wind, and she has a few wounds on her face which don't seem to bother her at all. All in all she looks… well, she looks like a superhero, he supposes.

But Robin isn't done being the daftest man on Earth, apparently, and as the dog barks happily at being placed in Roland's arms, he murmurs, "Uh oh."

She turns those dark eyes on him, raising a brow.

Robin shrugs his shoulders the best way he can manage with a toddler and a puppy in his arms. "Who'd have predicted we would leave this situation with an _addition _to our family?" he tells her.

To his very great surprise, she cracks a wide smile, laughs silently under her breath. "Who'd have thought?" she concurs with what almost sounds like a teasing tone.

If Robin looks like the biggest fool to walk the planet smiling at her like he does - well, could anyone really blame him, when she's just saved his son, and, not to mention, given how every curve of her looks inside that body suit?

The loud, distinct sound of an explosion interrupts the moment. She rolls her eyes heavenward, and groans. "Must they always go for the bridges?" she says to herself, already walking away. "As if we don't have to deal with _enough_ transportation issues in this town."

* * *

As fate would have it, their paths cross again.

This time she's running, limping and bleeding from her leg. She doesn't have her suit on but he'd recognise her no matter the outfit, and she holds a gun with a shaking hand. Robin thinks she might have taken a bullet and he's certain she's about five minutes away from fainting.

He doesn't stop to consider it. He pulls her into a darkened alley, puts his coat around her and holds her close, waits out the shouts of the people following her as they run past what he hopes will look as an oblivious couple getting affectionate in public.

His body shields her and he puts a hand on the back on her head, keeping her face tucked into the crook of his neck.

She sighs against him once they're all gone.

The whole thing happened as he was making his way back home from work, so his apartment isn't far and he takes her arm, wraps it around his shoulder to help her reach it.

He is right about the bullet but wrong about her fainting — she's a lot tougher than she looks, and she finds her voice to call someone… from what looks like a watch. Who'd have known that was actually a thing?

Robin makes a point not to listen, steps into the kitchen to get her a glass of water while she talks to whoever it is that comes to the aid of superheroes in such circumstances.

He's thinking of the blood on her face when she clears her throat behind him.

"You could have gotten yourself killed back there," she says, sternly. "I didn't need help."

"Apologies, but it seemed like you did need help. In fact, it seemed like you wouldn't have gotten away if I hadn't stepped in."

Robin offers her the water, pulls up a chair for her to sit on.

"I can handle myself. And you have no business getting involved."

"I've no doubt you can. And I've no doubt you'd have found a way to evade them eventually, had they captured you."

She looks at him like he's not making much sense.

"But I had to try and help you despite it," he says. "You see, you might not remember it but I owe you my life." He states these things as facts, because they are.

"Perhaps you are right and I ought not put myself in the line of danger. But I would have remembered it, hadn't I at least tried… If it's all the same to you, we're here now and what's done is done."

He's drawn the curtains of his apartment closed, to make sure no one can see inside, and he's also left most of the lights off for good measure. It's just him, her and a thread of orange light that still manages to slip in — oh, and the dog, who's stayed asleep through their arrival.

She nods at him thoughtfully, seeming somewhat contradicted by his words.

"I remember," she says, finally, with barely a flit of her eyes toward the corner where Cap sleeps. "Your son is Roland, right?"

He smiles.

"Is he here?"

"No, he's staying at his mum's tonight," Robin tells her. "He'll be dejected to have missed this, though. You are all he talked about for months on end."

She cracks a tentative smile at this, just the shadow of one, really, lifting the corner of her mouth. It's enough to change her whole demeanour.

Truly, she is lovely.

She attempts to lift an arm toward him and immediately groans at the exertion. Still she offers him her hand with some difficulty, saying, "I might as well introduce myself. I'm Regina."

Robin takes her hand in both of his, but doesn't shake — he turns her palm up instead and gently lowers her arm to rest on the table between them. She looks up at him with an intent, and dare he say, intrigued gaze.

"Robin Locksley," he says with a smile.


	2. Superhero pt 2

****Superhero au #2****

**we should just kiss like real people do  
**

* * *

Standing at the porch of her house, waiting for the door to open, he reminds Roland to behave but it's a hopeless business from the start.

There are just too many gadgets lying around, too many shiny objects with mind boggling capabilities. She has a son, too, a twelve year old boy with serious eyes whose pride of his mother is obvious to anyone paying attention. It's hard to tell whether Roland is more in awe of the posh tech or of the older boy showcasing it. Robin is surprised by how attentive her boy is to his own son, not showing any sign of budding teenage exasperation at spending the evening with his mom and her two guests — one of which is a four year old who has been following Henry around from moment one.

Instead, Henry has taken to Roland like an apprentice, telling him what Captain America and the Hulk are like in real life and answering all of Roland's questions with a world-wise voice.

Sometime during dinner, when it becomes blatantly clear that he and Regina have become mere bystanders to the boy's important discussion on superpowers, Robin grins across the table to find her beaming back at him. He offers to help her clear the table for dessert and leans in to whisper, as they walk toward the kitchen, that he thinks she might have officially lost the number one spot on Roland's Coolest People Ever list. At the strong, enticing smell of the apple pie she has prepared to close their meal, however, Robin reconsiders that assessment with a "though you may not be out of the running yet".

The pleased smirk he's rewarded with makes Robin think he must be playing his cards right.

Much as Henry falls into the elder-boy role, Robin can still sense the barely concealed excitement in the boy's voice as he walks him and his son through the most interesting objects around, demonstrating each of their functions.

"This one is pretty cool," Henry says as he shows Roland what looks like a small iron triangle. "You throw it like —"

"Henry!" Regina cuts in, slightly distressed as she takes in the scene in front of her. She'd insisted on finishing up in the kitchen all by herself, telling Robin that he's her guest for today and leaving all three of them to fend for themselves in the living room. Now she seems to be regretting that decision. In a few quick steps she's across the room, taking the item from her son's hands.

"What did I tell you about using experimental tech inside the house?"

"Sorry, mom," Henry apologizes, flashing Regina a mildly chastised grin. "I forgot."

That's a face Robin knows all too well, the face of a boy more sorry to be caught red handed than truly repentant, and he tucks his chin a bit to hide his amused chuckle. From his place out of Regina's line of sight, Robin shakes his head at Henry and the boy shrugs back at him as if saying _worth a try._

That has Regina turning to him and narrowing her eyes. Robin schools his face into what he hopes is a nonpartisan expression but Regina side-eyes him in suspicion all the same and it's all he can do not to break into a guilty-as-charged smirk.

Roland, bless his four year old heart, misses this exchange altogether and already has found another thing (sunglasses with one too many buttons to be mere sunglasses) to question Henry about.

"This one wasn't supposed to be here," Regina tells him when she sees the boys' attentions being directed at something apparently more benign. She starts walking toward the hallway and nods at Robin to follow. He spares a glance to the boys over his shoulder as he does, making sure that they'll be alright by themselves.

"It opens into a boomerang that supposedly catches whatever object you throw it at and brings it back to you. Only it's still malfunctioning, half the time it causes a minor explosion on its way back."

Robin's eyes fall to Regina's closed fist, picturing the small triangle and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that such a tiny thing would be able to do… all of that.

His brows rise involuntarily and his lips twist as he nods at her. "Sounds like you'd better put that one away."

"For the children's sake," he adds with touch of teasing to his tone.

"Henry should know better than to play with it," she drawls, sparing Robin a pointed glare. "I suspect he's just showing off."

She leads him to her study, a large room with mahogany bookshelves filled top to bottom with books. Robin stands at the doorway as she goes in and takes a moment to run his eyes across the space. The whole mansion is sophisticated, neutral shades and clean lines that Robin feels match perfectly with the superhero persona he's seen on the newspapers. This room, while still wholly refined, seems different. More like the Regina he's met than the Queen he's read about. Here it's not hard not imagine her, seated in one of the large leather chairs, poring over a book for hours on end.

There's also another tangible and noticeable difference. There are no gadgets on display, no cool technology lying around at random. Other than a couple of objects and books on her desk, which she has likely been working on, there's nothing out of place here.

Robin mentions this while Regina walks in and opens a drawer behind her desk, putting the malfunctioning triangle (boomerang?) inside.

Regina looks at him with playful eyes and a smile. "I _might_ have strategically placed some of the objects out there for Roland's benefit," she admits.

Though he'd had an inkling of it, because nothing about her speaks of someone who would leave what are essentially her work tools unattended, a slow, easy warmth still spreads inside Robin's chest at her words.

"Thank you," he says, after a pause. "It means a lot to him."

_It means the world to me,_ he means.

Her pupils widen as she seems to catch the gratitude underlining his words and the meaning of the small, daft smile on his face. She looks down then, appearing embarrassed for a moment or perhaps to disguise her own, lovely, smile.

"So, if those are the few choice items," Robin starts, attempting to disperse whatever might have cause her to flush, "the buyers showroom, if you will," he can't resist saying with a smirk, "where do you keep the real arsenal?"

"Most of it is stored at headquarters," she tells him as she makes her way around her desk and goes to stand with her back pressed against the front of it. "S.H.I.E.L.D's, I mean."

"Most of it… but you do have some things here," Robin concludes. She motions with her hand an invitation for him to fully enter the study and he hesitates only a moment before he does.

"Yes," Regina agrees slowly. She raises a brow and Robin can grasp that it's a question as to his intentions following this line of conversation.

He grins. "Is there a Batcave, then?"

This does get a laugh out of her, of which he's pretty proud. She rolls her eyes at him as he joins her beside her desk. "No, that's definitely just a comic book."

"Quite. No actual underground facilities."

"Well," she drawls out and then sighs, considering what she'll say next. "No _underground _facility, no," she tells him and as though that weren't enough to get her point across, she raises her chin slightly and glances to the ceiling.

Robin smiles, keeping his graze trained on her.

"_Ah_," he says in return.

"Don't dream of seeing it, though," she teasingly chides him. "You don't get access to the candy shop on your first time here."

That's exactly the kind of cheeky comment to make one choke into the properly flustered laugh, only before he can think of what he's doing, Robin smirks confidently and volleys back, "Is that so? From where I'm standing it seems I've already got it."

He lets his gaze wander from her face for once, and it's her turn to blush.

_Candy shop. _Bless her.

"You've seen nothing yet," she taunts.

He bites into his bottom lip to keep his grin under control, all too wrapped in that very last word.

"I bet," Robin agrees promptly. How could he not? Christ, she looks more gorgeous than she ever has, standing there in her study in a silk blouse with a hint of lace underneath and smiling at him as she is.

He shakes his head as he tries to move his thoughts into cleaner, safer, territory and Regina looks to side, still grinning but apparently with the same intention. He can scarcely believe that this brilliant woman — who should by all means be eons out of his league, more suited to someone like Thor than an ordinary chap like Robin — would give him the time of day. And what he reckons is frankly even more gobsmacking: that of late she has seemed as affected by him as he is by her.

But he's determined not to cock up by coming on too strongly, or before she is ready.

So Robin clears his throat and changes the subject entirely. "What about this," he says, motioning at an antique pocket watch on her desk. "Does it do anything?"

"Oh," she tells him, serious. "If you push the side button it shocks you with the equivalent voltage of three lighting bolts."

_Quite. _He quickly withdraws his hand from the watch's general proximity. "Pleasant, that. Are you sure you ought to leave this out in the open?"

Smirking, she picks up the item in her hand. "It tells time. It's just a pocket watch."

"Ah, you were having a go at me." One can never be too clear.

"It would seem," Regina confirms.

"Funny," he says drily.

Looking down at her hand, Regina's voice swifts into something weightier as she says, "It used to be my father's. I've been trying to get it to work again — I'd like Henry to have it."

Robin nods. "May I see it?" he asks.

He inspects the watch carefully, running his thumb against the intricate pattern of the golden case. It's heavier than he would have thought, and well-kept as a beloved family heirloom. He tells her it will be a lovely gift and places it back in her palm with the same delicate touch he's seen her treat the piece. His hand covers hers, the metal case of the watch between their palms, and she smiles gently up at him, presses her fingers to the back of his hand.

After that, conversation moves and stays far away from posh tech and heroic powers.

As Robin reckons, he can get enough of that in magazines and television shows. And every moment he gets to spend with her, Robin finds himself more and more interested in getting to know Regina instead of the woman they call The Queen.

* * *

Eventually, Robin not only gets to see the _candy shop_ but he also gets a password to it.

It's not a free entrance by any means, but it is useful in situations such as —

Regina takes the rucksack from his hands, crouches to lie it on the ground and shove the zipper open without ceremony. "You didn't leave the safe open, did you?" she asks.

Robin can't help but huff, mildly miffed at the question. "The safe to your secret weapon arsenal?" he mocks lightly. "No, not quite that daft."

The sarcasm must have dripped from his voice because she stops what she is doing to look at him with a grimace.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "Thank you for doing this," she adds, looking him in the eye for a moment before she turns back to the wooden box he has brought her.

Robin watches as she assembles, with a frantic kind of energy, the different cases and bits into a surprisingy large weapon. It occurs to him that she is more anxious today than he's ever seen her be in a fight — or at any time before, come to think of it. She keeps talking, telling him that it only just occurred to the lot of them that this particular weapon could help in this situation.

"I would usually have Swan do this kind of run for me, but with these flying monkeys destroying things all over town the police has its hands full as it is," she is justifying.

Robin furrows his brow as he considers that perhaps what has her off her game isn't the fight itself, but him. Or rather, having had to ask him for something, to rely on him, or maybe the very fact that she's made him come down to meet her where the action is taking place. In the months they've known each other, how often has she expressed concern about putting him or Roland in danger?

"Regina, it's alright," he tells her, trying to imprint into his words, voice and expression just how honest he is. "You know I'm happy to help you however I can."

She looks up at him again, searches his eyes for whatever reassurance she needs and Robin hopes she will find there. With a sigh and a nod, Regina lets him know that she understands what he is saying but also that the discussion is far from over. It's fine with Robin. As long as the discussion is still open he is still determined to convince her that it is better for him and his son to have her in their life than the other option.

(He doesn't want to consider the other option, it tastes less like an option now and more like being forced to live with an unbearable loss after having experienced glowing happiness.)

"I left work quite suddenly, though," he cracks, trying to get her to ease up on the mood. "Let's hope I don't get sacked."

She rolls her eyes at him as she rises, weapon newly assembled in her arms. Behind them, the sound of sirens grow louder and the acrid smoke, stronger. She's had him meet her at a back alley not far from the high streets where the news had reported _huge winged beasts _causing fear and destruction.

"So, flying monkeys? Who would —"

She shakes her head and scrunches her nose lightly, and now is most likely not the time to be considering how adorable she is. "We don't know who's responsible yet. Likely some mad scientist. Whoever it is, Tony's already calling them The Wizard."

"As in Oz? 'Course," he says as if that were a thing he's accustomed to hear. It's not. Not bloody at all.

Regina gives him a strained smile. "I should get back." She's already turning around and Robin can sense the anxiety which still stems off of her.

"Wait," he says on impulse, not willing to let her go in such a state. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"I don't know what time I'll be free," she answers, doubtful.

"Whatever time," he assures and steps forward to stand right in front of her. "If I remember correctly, I owe you breakfast."

Her serious countenance breaks with a small smile. It makes his heart soar. "In the evening?"

"Ah, don't heroes get to have breakfast for dinner?" Robin places a hand on her elbow, keeping her as close as he can without actually pressing into the - well - weapon resting against her belly.

"I suppose they do," she answers, grinning now.

Swiftly, Robin uses his other hand to caress her cheekbone and bring her in for a peck (maybe two) on the lips. She tells him, softly and in a voice meant for him alone, to be careful getting back to work because these unhinged animals are everywhere downtown. Freeing one hand, she zips his jacket up to his neck and then tucks her hand between the fabric and his skin, tenderly chiding him for not bringing a scarf in this weather. Robin presses his forehead to hers and hopes his eyes will convey all the fondness pooling in his chest.

"Keep our city safe," Robin tells her as he lets her go. "Come home to me."

She smiles widely. "I will," she says, already running off.

Robin watches until she's turned a corner and moved out of his sight, and then picks up his rucksack to go back to work.


	3. Fortune teller

**Fortune Teller AU**

_cw: mentions of blood and pain.  
_

* * *

Outside it is damp and crisp though inside the tent you wouldn't know it. Light from the white, overcast skies is still enough to brighten the stripes of purple silk, and just as any other light from any other sunnier day, it does not come in through the patches of heavier cloth. Every oil lamp and candle is alight to chase away the cold, burning a scent of myrrh and lavender into the air.

Regina frees her long dark hair from the tie she'd used to keep it from getting wet on her way here, but the ends of her curls still drip as they fall loose against her back.

"Madame," her assistant's voice floats from just beyond the curtain that makes the entrance to the place. "Whenever you are ready, your first inquirers are here."

"Thank you, Sidney," Regina tells him, adjusting her skirts as she sits on the cushioned red velvet chair. "Give me one minute and then show them in."

It is clear from the moment they step through the curtains that these are not people who would ordinarily be able to afford to consult with her. From their simple clothes and worn-out boots, Regina can gather that they are the kind of folk who count their fortunes from one day to the other. From the woman's sickly appearance and her large, round belly, Regina understands that this couple is spending their every last penny to be here.

She smiles kindly and urges them to take a seat. The woman's eyes are coal black and they flit around the tent, taking in every shimmering treasure. Most of these serve no real purpose but to give a sense of ambiance; candles and treasures — they give the tent an otherworldly appearance. Regina has always had a penchant for the dramatics.

The man doesn't seem too impressed, however. His every countenance is of a man who would not have chosen to do this. He looks at the table, at Regina and at the way out.

Regina has seen plenty of men just like him.

It is the hope in the feeble woman's face that makes her put aside her usual deck.

Instead, Regina brings out her old Venetian set, the first one she ever owned, with cards decorated by beautiful drawings that resemble intricate stained glass panels. This is a deck for special occasions, and something about this couple makes her believe it is time to put it to use again.

Plain enough is that the couple is here to inquire about the woman's chances of reconstituting her health. Underlying in their words, Regina understands that the pair is considering a journey, a dangerous journey, to seek a treatment rumoured to help women in such a state heal and give birth to their children safely.

With deft hands, Regina begins to shuffle the cards.

There's already a growing lump in her throat, and she hides it behind a soft smile to put the couple at ease. _Il Papa Invertito. _The feeling grows as the session progresses, with each card the woman chooses. _L'appeso, _and the woman's breath catches as she turns a card into an image of a man hanging in a gallow by his feet.

"Marian," Regina reassures, despite the ominous pull at the bottom of her own stomach, "the cards are not always what they seem to be."

Only when the husband's bright blue eyes snap to hers, aghast and wide open with surprise, does Regina remember that the woman never told her her name.

The reading tells her of a journey, of difficult decisions, of — some things Regina chooses to forego, reminding herself that this is always a work of interpretation. That the visions and sensations that shimmer at the back of her mind are not set in stone. She keeps her words purposefully vague, focuses on the general ideas the cards give instead of her own negative perceptions. Clouding her mind's eye, though, is the persistent image of a pool of blood and desperate, insistent screams.

Regina is not so baleful as to pass on to this pregnant woman everything the tarot draws out of her.

"Our lives are not books to be read in a certain order," Regina tells them. "They are much more like maps, and can follow many different paths."

The man's brows knit together at this but Regina knows Marian understands even if her husband does not.

She will take the journey, and the treatment, for the sake of her child, and will be happy enough even if it turns out only the child…

By the time they leave, Regina is exhausted. She asks Sidney for a few minutes before her next session and tries to ignore the pounding in her head.

She is pouring herself a glass a liquor when she notices the shawl the woman has left behind. Crossing the tent slowly, Regina picks up the woolen wrap in her hands and closes her eyes with a sigh. This is the worst part of her gift. This heavy feeling of powerlessness in the face of something she dare not name.

His voice jerks her out of these reveries.

"Pardon the intrusion, madam," the man says, his accent curling around the title. "I know I shouldn't barge in here like this."

He must be very light on his feet, Regina thinks, for her not to have heard his footsteps coming in. She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow at him, taking in his appearance as if for the first time. She'd been so focused on his wife that she had not given much thought to this man.

"It's just that my wife, I believe she forgot her…" he is saying, sounding out of breath. He looks down at her hands and grins with the corner of his mouth, embarrassed. "… wrap."

"Indeed," Regina agrees with a thin but genuine smile. "I thought you would be long gone by now."

He is handsome. Rough around the edges but there's something distinctly trustworthy and honest about him.

"We were across the bridge," he admits and runs a hand through the back of his hair.

"You were eager to be away from here," she states, not harshly but straightforward, making light of his posture throughout the session.

He hesitates at this, seeming abashed by her observation. "I —"

"Don't believe in the cards," she finishes before he can say more. "It's alright. They are not for everyone."

The confident shake of his head surprises her. He is serious and thoughtful as he tells her, "Oh, I do believe in the cards and many other powerful things. I would just rather not get involved in them. No good can come from… dealing with magic beyond our comprehension."

Regina blinks and her lips part as she takes his words in. It's is unexpected, unusual even that someone would express this kind of opinion so openly to her. And yet, it is a perspective that she has often considered herself. Her gift has not always been kind to her.

He takes her silence to mean she's been offended and looks again uneasy. "Apologies, I'll go. If could just —" and he reaches out an arm to take the fabric from her hands.

As he turns his palm up to receive the shawl, Regina's knees tremble and threaten to give up from under her.

It's there. The tattoo. The very same one from her dreams, a black crest of a lion in the exact lines and shapes Regina had envisioned. A memory pulls at her, strong as a swirl, of a night by Seine with Tink, of the moment the girl fell into one of her predictions — those strange overcoming prophecies her old friend would have sometimes — of her exact words, come from far away. A man with a lion tattoo and Regina, lives intertwined.

Her pulse thumps hard against her ear, her breathing suddenly shallow.

It's him.

"Milady," he says, stepping forward toward her as if to hold her in case she should faint. He puts a steadying hand on her elbow without so much as a by your leave, and his fingers seem to burn into her skin.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

She cannot say.


	4. Pirates pt 1

**Pirates AU**

**.**

**.**

**.**

She's the self-entitled pirate queen of the Enchanted Sea and he's been made to walk her plank more times than he can count.

Not a metaphor for anything, unfortunately.

It's just that the queen doesn't tolerate other pirates thieving at what she considers to be her waters. No matter how many times Robin's made the point that no one can own a sea, and that the whole point of piracy is not abiding by such rules anyway.

This time, though, this time he thinks he might be close to convincing her to let the Merry Men ship go without a toll. Almost sure that this day won't end with him shaking water from his boots.

"Milady," he says, running a thumb back and forth against her cheekbone. "Don't you think it's high time we found a new way to resolve this?"

She pushes a hand against his chest, creating some space between them. "Oh? And what do you propose, thief?"

His smile at her is entirely mischief as he pulls the hat from her head and lays it down, presses her more fully against the captain's desk. "Well. We might set up an exchange of goods between our two ships. Imagine how much more…" he leans in to whisper against her ear, "…productive that might be."

"Hmm," she hums right before he's capturing her lips for another long kiss.

She's already popped open half the buttons on his shirt and he is pushing the sleeves of her lovely red dress down her shoulder — and his brain must already have ceased and desisted to function due to the closeness of her, because for no reason he can think of, Robin stops to murmur against her skin: "You know the mermaids always come for me whenever you decide to show me the way to your plank, anyway."

Mistake.

And there he goes, overboard again.

Will Scarlett claps him on the back when his men find him on shore in some deserted beach, drenched up to his boots. "Ah, she threw you out again, eh Robin? Bad luck, matey."


	5. Pirates pt 2 (rated M ish)

**Pirates AU #2**

_cw: light M rating… or maybe upper T-ish._

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.

.

Later, standing at the pier of some seaport he won't even know the name of, Robin will remember how he swore everything he had — and didn't have — to her.

It'll be one of the many memories forever etched into his brain from the two days before.

Such as her beautiful, frustrated face as the ties of his breeches curled around her fingers and refused to let up. Her threatening glare at him when he mocked her for the leather trousers she insists on wearing, such a challenge to push down her legs in the tropical heat. The taste of salt on her skin that he licked anywhere he could reach and her every gasp and every moan as he thrusted, bit and caressed. The waves washing in and pulling gently at his legs whilst they kissed, long and deep, laying in the white sand. It had made a nice rhythm, the tide and her soft tongue against his, and for once he did not think of what might happen after she remembered who she was and who _he_ was.

Sand had gotten everywhere, troublesome and inconvenient thing that it is, but it had been worth it to see Regina huff underneath him (after many a minute sighing underneath him) as she remembered her distaste for it and its way of getting into everything. She'd blamed him, of course. Him and his rapscallion ways, for making her forget her surroundings. Making her lose her mind.

He'd laughed and lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and carried her to the first patch of grass he could find so they could finish things and start again somewhere a little less uncomfortable.

He'd promised to find a stream so they could bathe after, and then he'd promised a great many other things, just to get a reaction from her.

He'd sworn he'd give her every piece of ruby jewellery in all treasures he came across from hereon out. An eye roll. He'd told her he would walk through Davy Jones' Locker if she needed him to — that one was true and she'd bitten her lip as if she knew it, too. He'd made a nonsensical promise about a new constellation named after her to navigate by. A giggle followed by a light slap. Though that might have been because of his ministrations around the apex of her thighs. He'll never know.

Robin can't even lay the blame on being three sheets to the wind in spirits — at worst, he'd been intoxicated by her.

He'd sworn his ship to her, should she ever ask it.

He just hadn't thought that the day would come this soon. And he certainly had not meant she could have his galley _without him in it, _though perhaps he ought to have been more specific.

"You're stealing my ship?" he says now, voice dripping disbelief.

"I'm _borrowing_ it," she corrects daintly as she pushes him toward the gangplank. "Don't worry, you'll have it back. As soon as I have my Queen back."

Somewhere behind him, John is cursing, "Damn ye to the depths, you cutthroat harlot scabshytes!" as he is led off the vessel with a sword perilously close to the back of his neck.

"And besides," Regina says hot on his ear, "you can't steal something that's freely been given to you."

"Dear heart," he pleads with her, hoping she will see reason.

"I trust my memories aren't failing me, are they?" she feigns, sounding all too pleased with herself. "You did promise your every last golden coin to me. And I do believe a pirate has nothing if not his word."

_Curse all the buccaneers and privateers and all of the Enchanted Sea. _Of the many places for their_rendez-vous_, did he have to choose the one moving island that would get both of them stranded without their vessels?

And did Golden Beard really have to choose their two days (one planned, one less planned; see: moving island) of bliss to attack her ship and leave her crew high and dry in the port town where they had (incidentally; see: moving island) docked?

"'Til next time, Hood," she says, tipping her hat to the side in farewell. "And thank you for letting me have Sherwood!"

He watches his lovely vessel sail away, its green flag flying at full mast, with a dejected feeling in his chest and a heaviness in his… pockets?

Robin reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and is surprised to wrap his fingers around a round-shaped, metal compact.

It's a compass. One that does not point north.

The needle follows, instead, the form of Sherwood disappearing on the horizon.

An enchanted compass.

Robin raises both his brows, picturing Regina grinning at him from behind the helm of his vessel. The compass will lead him to _her_, he knows. And it will keep leading him to her, long after he gets his prized galley back.

He smirks._ Siren_.

"Blimey, Rob'n! Of all t' beauties in all t' seas, did ye 'ave to set yer eyes on that one?" Will Scarlet exclaims beside him.

(Absolutely, he did.)


	6. 7 Minutes in Heaven

**Awkward teenage 7 minutes in heaven**

.

.

.

Okay, first things first: Tink is dead once Regina gets out of here - not tv dead-but-if-you-didn't-see-a-body-could-pop-back-at-any-time dead, actually_ dead_ dead.

Second. Yes, fine. It's true. She did have a crush on him but that was almost three years going on a century ago and _who_ _didn't_ have a crush on him then? He'd been the new boy in town, complete with sky-blue eyes and that British politeness that's quite frankly offensive. Every girl in school, if not in the district and the nation, had a crush on Robin Locksley at some point.

(Not to mention some boys, and even Tink back when her friend was still fast and furiously figuring out her sexuality.)

So what. Point is, it doesn't mean anything. Regina had been fourteen and _an idiot_.

Oh, and a third thing — "Don't even think it," she says out loud as soon as the door is closed behind them, with a tone to tell him in no uncertain terms that he'd better stay on his side of the fence.

"Pardon?"

"This?" Regina says, waving her hand in the small space between them. "Is not gonna happen."

"Ah," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and curling his shoulders in. "I wouldn't have assumed - I… wouldn't dream of it."

"I _know_ you wouldn't," she all but spits back at him.

Robin furrows his brow but makes no comment on that. He looks confused, floored even, by her attitude.

One minute ticks by, and he is sliding down the wall to sit on the carpeted floor, his knees pushed up and nearly touching his chest, the soles of his boots pressed against the door.

Half a minute after that, she sits with her legs folded underneath her body in a position that will clearly get very uncomfortable very soon but is almost the only one she can manage while sparing a decent amount of distance between them in what is truly an incredibly small spear closet. Honestly, with the size of David's house you'd think his parents would have invested in a reasonably sized storage space.

The silence does get awkward but she still shuts down his every effort at conversation (polite, British) unceremoniously.

Regina wanted nothing from her Saturday night other than four hours of Parks &amp; Rec on Netflix and conking out on the couch, as per her tradition any time Cora is out of town. Instead, she lost her sense of purpose and let herself be convinced - no, coerced - into coming to this party to support Mary Margaret in her new hopeless (though maybe this time, not so platonic - still, Blanchard and Nolan will be undergrads by the time either of them gets the courage to make a move) crush.

Somehow Regina is quite certain she can still blame all of this on Tink. She was, after all, the mastermind behind this game and the one (Regina has gone over this in her head and is confident of it) to manipulate the results.

The universe itself would not be so unkind as to make Regina the first person shoved into the closet and with Robin Locksley, of all people, to boot.

Regina huffs at the thought, a bit louder than she'd meant to do because it has Robin's head snapping up at her.

"Pardon, did I do something to you?"

"It's the principle of the thing," she says. Not entirely a lie, definitely not the whole truth either. "Seven minutes in heaven? Does anyone need this much of an excuse to make out at our age?"

"Really?" he asks, sounding unconvinced. "'Cause I get the distinct impression that whatever crawled up your arse is directly to do with me."

"Now, _why_ would you think that?" she says, expecting him to drop it in when faced with the sheer force of her sarcasm.

He doesn't.

"Because of -" he says, clearly growing frustrated. "Because of that tone!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No!"

Regina shakes her head, crosses her arms in front of her chest and stares hard at him, which does not have the desired effect of shaming him into backing down. Blame it on the lack of light in the closet.

Robin leans more fully against the wall, rests the back of his head into it seeming to seriously ponder her attitude for long enough to make Regina falter slightly in her certainty that -

"Is this because of year nine?"

_Aha._

She neither confirms nor denies this.

But - obviously.

"It is, isn't it?" he says. "…I don't get it."

He _doesn't get_ why she'd be a little angry that he'd pretend to be a nice guy to her face and then go around school spreading rumours about her?

What did he expect, rainbow kisses? What a fucking jerk.

She tells him as much, in so many words, and is disconcerted to find him looking genuinely astonished back at her.

"Regina…" he says, drawing out the last vowel of her name. "What did I do?"

(The ninth grade incident:

She'd been miserably failing Prof. Gold's class the whole semester, and contrary to her mother's opinion - not for lack of trying. That day she'd gotten back yet another exam with a terrible grade and to top it Gold had asked her to stay after class only to imply that perhaps she should get a tutor or drop out of Algebra II. It'd been… it'd been too much. She'd felt incompetent, unfit, stupid, and all the more dumb for crying over something as silly as bad grades.

And when she felt the hot tears, unstoppable under the crumbling weight of the pressure - from her mother, from her friends, from herself - she hid under the bleachers of the empty football field and let it all come crushing down.

That's where Robin found her. He'd been so… so exactly what she'd needed. He'd listened to her and spoke to her as if he believed she could do anything, but at the same time as though she had no obligation to be anyone other than whoever she wanted to be. He'd even offered her the clean spare shirt in his duffel bag, to dry her tears on, for the lack of a handkerchief.

Two days later there were rumours all around the school about her trying to flirt Gold into a good grade. Suppose Regina ought to be grateful that the rumour mill said he'd turned her down, the other option could have been even less kind.)

It spills out of her.

"You thought I'd spread those rumours?" Robin says now, in disbelief. "Fucks' sake, you were crying behind the open-air stands in the middle of the afternoon. Half the varsity team saw you on their way to the field! Someone must've seen you in Gold's classroom before that."

He takes in what seems like a long, steadying breath.

"Do you remember how I got suspended for three days that week? Well, that's because I'd knocked Jefferson out for _telling me_ those liesabout you_. _I tried to talk to you only you wouldn't give me the time of day. I went to your house and you had your mom feed me some excuse about you being sick! Twice!"

No, she didn't.

Oh.

Damn her controlling mother to hell and back.

_"_When I saw you next, I thought you'd been embarrassed about opening up to me and wanted me to leave you alone. So I did just that._"  
_

_Oh._

Regina grows quiet. Quickly runs it over in her brain, attempting to match his words to the events of those weeks.

Okay, she could see how there could have been a misunderstanding.

"I'm - " she tries, her voice suddenly small. "I should never have assumed -"

"And for the record I _would_ dream of kissing you," he adds, bluntly. "In fact, I'm _pretty_ certain I have."

Hold up.

It takes a moment for it all to sink in. Robin is muttering something under his breath about Regina _believing him an arsehole all this time _while Regina, well, she's trying to regain control of her eyebrows - without much success.

She's _pretty_ _certain_ they've shot up to her hairline.

When his last words dawn on her, it's as if the world has shifted on its axis and yet… it would be an impossible feat to control her smirk.

"Oh, you've dreamed of _kissing_ me?"

Robin catches her implication instantly and, in about the same second, looks mortified.

"I didn't mean…" Is he stuttering? "Bugger, I mean, I swear there wasn't - ah, I haven't -"

For one moment, Regina is not sure what to do with all of this new information. She tries to wrap her mind around all her anger at him, nursed for almost two years now, emptying out of her like the air coming out of a bust balloon.

So she does what she always does:

Here's a (REVISED) comprehensive list of things Regina knows to be true about Robin Locksley — he plays soccer with his friends every other day after school and calls it _football; _he's almost as good a horseback rider as she is, key word being almost; he's a professed lover of camping trips - don't ask her how she knows, because it's kind of a mortifying story -; all signs point to his only jacket being that ugly one the color of wet moss; he's invariably been picked in every English class, ever, to read Shakespeare out loud but has never seemed too put out or embarrassed by it; he comforted her under the bleachers and _did not_ tell anyone about her breakdown or spread cruel lies about her; and he -

\- _apparently_ \- has dreamed of kissing her.

Somehow in that moment, in the closet, it all adds up into Regina blurting, "Well, I suppose we could make out."

And immediately feeling like the biggest idiot on this planet they call the Earth, of course.

Much to her chagrin, Robin easily picks up on the shift of balance on the levels of embarrassment between them. He looks stunned for only a moment before throwing her a smug smirk. The smirk contains all the smugness that no teenage boy has any business having, yet so many of them seem to carry all the same.

"Sorry," he wisecracks. "I reckoned that option wasn't available?"

"It might have opened for a very small window of time," she tosses back, a quick and firm recovery prompted by the sheer smugness of him. "A window that you're kind of rubbing the wrong way right now, no offence."

Robin chuckles and it wrinkles the skin off the side of his eyes, which Regina thinks might be shining at her - if only she could see them.

"None taken," he says, amused. "I presume you've forgiven me for my imaginary offences?"

Even in the low light, it's still impossible to miss the way he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I would very much like to kiss you," he states, with a soft, low voice, and oh crap… is it normal to get a tingle from the way someone says the word kiss?

It's the accent, it gets to her.

The 2005 Pride and Prejudice has a lot to answer for.

"You would?" she asks.

"Regina. Of course," he says. "You're stunning… in every way, actually."

His voice going all soft like this, it's frankly disarming. Regina finds her that upper body moves forward, entirely involuntarily.

"But I'd rather we not have our first snog here, like this," Robin says, raking a hand through his hair as though he can't believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Regina can't, either.

Did he say _first_ snog?

Well, how many _snogs_ are in the plan, she'd really like to know -

"I'd like not to cock this up again," he tells her with a sigh.

"Look, this may be forward and I realize you've hated me for the best part of two years but… I know this great place for a burger that stays open past midnight -"

"I don't do meat," Regina cuts in.

" - right you are, as I was saying," Robin grins, without missing a beat. "I have this very useful app on my phone. It's called Yelp, dunno if you've heard of it - "

As he starts to wax poetic about the wonders on geo-location based tech, something under Regina's skin starts to buzz with expectation, a flutter in her stomach to go with it. She can just picture Tink losing her mind over text (REGINA when i put u in the closet w/ locksley i DID NOT MEAN FOR U TO RUN OFF ON ME) (but wow like even i could NOT predict this turn of events. when i'm good, i'm GOOD.) (hope the fact that you're not answering means he's got his tongue down your throat) (or not idk i regret that last txt).

Most of all, she imagines sitting with him - maybe in the same bench, maybe in opposite sides of a booth -, seeing his smile clearly under decent lights. Placing her thumbs in his dimples as he leans in…

That one picture makes her feel warm, good.

"Okay," Regina says, quietly.

His smile opens into a surprised beam, like he wasn't entirely convinced she was going to say yes.

"Yeah?"

Regina shrugs and matches his grin with one of her own. "Let's see what you can do with this Yelp app…"

The door knocks open, it's David, marking the end of their seven minutes. Robin waves her out first with a mock bow and now that they're not in the dark, she can see his dimpled grin. Regina rolls her eyes and reaches for his hand, their fingers entwining easily as she pulls him right past David toward the coat rack and the front door.

.

.

.

For the record, her messages look like this:

_MM to Regina, Saturday - 10:23PM  
_robin huh? 3 3 :) :) :)  
i want to hear all about it when you get home  
you can call me at any time  
just call ;)

_Tink to Regina, Saturday - 10:27PM  
_WHAT THE HELL? blanchard just told me david said you LEFT WITH LOCKSLEY?  
i'm  
oddly proud  
CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET HOME THO

_Tink to Regina, Sunday - 1:14AM  
_seriously you're not home yet?  
send smoke signal

_Tink to Regina, Sunday - 2:31AM  
_PICK UP YOUR DAMNED PHONEEE  
THIS IS THE REASON PEOPLE GET GREY HAIR AT AGE 22 REGINA

_Regina to Tink, Sunday - 2:36AM  
_Yeah, i'm home.  
Sorry, just getting into bed. I'm beat, call you tomorrow!  
(Did you have one too many glasses of punch again?)

_Tink to Regina, Sunday - 2:39AM  
_…and? HOW WAS IT  
DID YOU GUYS MAKE OUT  
what am i asking of course you did BUT DID YOU?  
and no i've had exactly the rigt amount of punch thanks mom  
REGINA ARE YOU ASLEEP

_ thebelltinker, Sunday - 2:44 AM  
_ rgmills this is me officially giving up on you in front of all of twitter

_Tink to Regina, Sunday - 2:52AM  
_god you are the worst istg  
like evil  
i hope you read these messages tomorrow and feel the weight of a thousand tinks throwing you  
so much shade

_MM to Regina, Sunday - 9:15AM  
_soooo… are you awake? Can i call you? :) :)

_Tink to Regina, Sunday -10:27AM  
_MM &amp; I are at your door with mud cakes and a password for . it's sunday let us in.  
daily reality check here - i had a weird night &amp; u are not the only person on the planet?  
the mudcakes are all mine btw

_Robin L. to Regina, Sunday - 10:44AM  
_Hey


	7. Car Breakdown

**Car Breakdown AU**

* * *

_Prompt from queenoflocksley on tumblr: OQ + Person A's car breaks down on the side of the road and person B drives the tow truck that's coming for A_

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.

.

Fine, she really should have taken her car to a mechanic by now - that much Regina is willing to admit.

But, honestly, shouldn't there be more than one tow truck driver in this town?

It's the third time in as many months that the unreliable engine has malfunctioned and left her stranded on the side of the road, or in the middle of traffic, or - the worst one yet - in the driveway of her parents' mansion, condemning her suffer through Cora's offers of getting her a new, _decent_, car if she couldn't afford one (bonus half an hour of thinly veiled judgement and superiority after family dinner).

And each time it's been him to rescue.

With the same insufferable smirk and the same distracting British accent and the same annoyingly built body.

Regina watches through the rearview mirror as he slowly approaches down the road, breathes in for strength as he parks in front of her and exits the truck.

"Alas, we meet again," is the first thing he says after she lowers the window between them. "I'm starting to wonder if perhaps you _want _your car breaking down every other week."

"What?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. "Why would Iwant that?"

"Oh, I can think of a reason," Robin tells her and see? That smile he's displaying, that's exactly what she'd meant by insufferable smirk.

Regina raises a brow. "Don't get fanciful. Driving a tow truck isn't exactly a rescue with a white horse," she tells him, and then, for good measure, "and you're certainly no prince charming."

He's still smiling at her, though, skin crinkled near his eyes. "No, I wouldn't dream of suggesting that."

She pushes the lever to open the hood on the car, and then gets out to watch (wait, not watch, _wait)_while he checks out whatever's wrong with her vehicle this time.

The smoke coming out of her engine distracts him for a minute and when he looks up at her, his jaw drops visibly and his eyes go wide. Regina follows the gaze he doesn't bother to disguise as he takes in her blue dress all the way down to her high heels.

When he meets her eyes again, it's with a half-embarrassed smile. He shakes his head as if to shake away a thought and bites his lower lip, looking down at her car.

"I'll have to see what I can do about that white horse," he says more to himself than to her.

Well. Maybe that one smirk isn't quite as insufferable, Regina thinks as she smiles privately to herself too.


	8. Minotaur Myth

**Minotaur AU**

→ a genderswapped dystopian retelling of the myth of the Minotaur in the style of _Romeo + Juliet_._ prompt: Greek Mythology from oqweek._

_._

_._

_._

_\- a bronze sword, a dawning sun, the bitterness of blood  
staining dark a ball of thread._

_._

_._

_._

Some say it was because of her magic; an evil, dreadful power that no woman should be allowed to possess. Some say it was punishment, that she'd tried to trick the king into looking at Medea and had gotten her due in return.

It doesn't matter which version you choose to believe.

Either way, she's been trapped in that labyrinth for so long that her nails have grown stiff and deadly, with fingers curved like claws and teeth gone sharp as knives. She's a monster now, the monster she's always been on the inside, on the outside now too.

Or at least that's what they say.

There are two kinds who will face her: the unspeakably _brave_ men, the fearlessly _daring_ men, the incomparably _stupid_ men looking for glory and a place in Olympus; and the sacrifices.

Both ways, she'll rip their hearts out.

Or at least that's what you hear.

No one ever comes out —

He's one of the second kind. A hero, yes, but a hero second and a thief first. And a thieving hero, well, those are the king's favourite kind of sacrifices.

—until Robin does. And again, again, again. Every night.

Some say he's wounded the monster, very nearly slayed her. Now he goes in to finish the job.

(They don't see the thread that leads him to her.)

But half a lifetime in the dark is much, too much, and the thread that leads one in can also bring one out.


End file.
